


Big Softie

by perhapsoneday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Sam Winchester, Asexuality, Brotherly Bonding, Coming Out, Gen, Misunderstandings, takes ace!sam and wraps him in a blanket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 14:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2392403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perhapsoneday/pseuds/perhapsoneday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sheriff is flirting with Sam. Dean thinks it's adorable. Except, apparently Sam thinks it's adorable too? Dean did not see that coming. Did not see any of this coming, actually. Wait, what just happened? (It was a chick-flick moment, Dean, and yes, you participated.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Softie

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for overuse of italics, swearing, and run on sentences. Sorry, it's just how Dean sounds in my head.

Dean’s first thought is that he is gonna have a shit load of fun teasing his brother for at least the next week.

The doe-eyed, fresh-faced sheriff is quite young for his office, and full of a naive enthusiasm that toes the line between adorable and irritating. Dean was ready to completely dismiss the guy about five seconds after he met him, until the guy started flirting with Sam.

Seriously. With _Sam_.

He isn’t exactly subtle about it. He looks up at Sam with these dewy eyes, leans towards him, and says in a quiet, low tone, “So, you gonna be stayin’ in town for long?” Yeah, not the most original, but it gets the point across.

Dean barely manages to hold a snorted laugh in his throat, lips already curling into a smirk as he anticipates his brother’s reaction. He’ll probably blush, the big pansy, lean back and stutter something wimpy. No suaveness, that boy, despite his genetics. Oh, yeah, this is gonna be hilarious.

But then, while Dean is distracted trying to figure out if suaveness is actually a word, Sam does something unexpected. He does blush, when he registers the sheriff's intentions, but then he goes and _ducks_ his _head_ , and he even flashes a fucking smile, all white teeth and dimples, and damn if that isn't how he acts when _girls_ flirt with him. And then he goes and says, “Not sure, a few days at least,” and holy _fuck_ , Sam is flirting _back_.

Sam is _flirting_ with a _dude_.

And Dean’s not in shock, or anything, but he kinda filters out the rest of the conversation. Apparently, he also filters out getting in the car and driving to the motel, ‘cause the next thing he’s aware of is Sam poking him while he’s sitting on the bed.

Sam is poking him with a finger that’s attached to a hand that’s part of a body that belongs to his brother who was just _flirting with a guy_.

“Dude. Earth to Dean,” Sam says, and he’s got that ‘my brother is so stupid I’m legitimately concerned for his welfare’ face on.

Dean can’t help but react to that face. It’s instinct, a survival mechanism, part of his big brother genetic code, and he doesn't even have to think to come up with a tasteless, patronizing, and possibly vaguely sexual comeback. Which is why he’s vaguely surprised when the words that come out of his mouth are, “Holy shit, why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you?” Sam frowns. “Dean, I found out at the same time you did.”

What the hell? “How do you not already _know_ something like that?”

And now Sam is pissed off, which makes as little sense as everything else right now. He spits out, “What’s your problem, Dean? You don’t like the way I do research, you can do it yourself,” as he stands and makes for the door.

It takes Dean a moment to untangle what his brother said, and when he gets it, he stumbles forward off the bed, catching Sam’s arm before he can leave. “No, Sam, wait, that’s not what I meant. I wasn't talking about the case.”

Sam yanks his arm away, but stays where is. “Well, then, what the hell did you mean?”

Dean bites his lip, because now he’s going to have to say it, not that there’s anything wrong with it, but now he’s going to have to say it, and, and, “I just didn't know you were into guys.”

And now Dean is sitting on the bed again and pointedly _not_ looking at Sam, but he can still see from the corner of his eye that Sam has gone back to looking at Dean like he’s crazy.

Sam speaks slowly, like he’s talking to a kid. “I’m not following, Dean. What are you talking about?”

Since it looks like he’s not gonna have a choice, Dean takes a deep breath and spits out before he can choke, “You were totally flirting with that guy back there and I didn't know you were bisexual and I can’t believe you didn't tell me something important like that.”

What follows is the most awkward .89 seconds of anyone’s life in the entire world, and Dean’s pretty sure it can’t get any worse.

Of course, he shouldn't have thought that because all the sudden Sam says a quiet, “Dean,” and fuck, that’s his vulnerable voice, and Dean _hates_ that voice, and _he_ put it there, and he needs to fix it.

“I mean,” he blurts out, even though he has no idea what he means, what he’s gonna say, “it’s … fine. It’s just … fine. It’s okay if you … swing both ways. Not a problem. Plenty of Winchester to go around.” Dean’s babbling, but his shuts up real quick when his brother suddenly plops down on the bed next to him.

Sam heaves one of his trademark emo sighs and runs a hand through his girly hair. This time, he’s the one carefully not looking at Dean. “I’m not …” Sam starts, but he doesn't seem to know where to go from there. He moves his hand from his hair to rub over his face, and starts again. “I’m not … bisexual. I was flirting with Sheriff Dobbs, yeah, but it was just, you know, for the case. To get information. We do it all the time.”

“We do,” Dean says slowly, “but usually with, you know, _chicks_.”

“Yeah,” Sam nods, “but it’s same thing. I just, like, didn't notice he was a guy. It was just reflex.”

Dean … has a little trouble with that. “So, what, you just flirted on instinct or something? That’s usually kinda my thing.”

Sam shrugs, and Dean supposes that’s his cue to let it go. But it still doesn’t add up, and all the sudden he needs to know. He twists and looks at Sam.

“No, really,” Dean says, “you can’t just say it’s the same thing to flirt with a guy as with a girl. Part of flirting is checking the person out. There’s no way you don’t notice he’s a dude.”

Sam still won’t look at Dean. “That’s not really what flirting is for me. I’m not ‘checking out’ anyone.”

“Dude, it’s _flirting_.”

“Yeah, but I _don’t_ ,” Sam insists, his voice rising. “I flirt, _technically_ , yeah, but it’s not real. And fake flirting is the same with anyone, regardless of gender. You just gotta do what you’re supposed to, what people expect.” And finally, Sam lifts his eyes to look at Dean, and it’s like he’s begging Dean to understand, but all Dean is doing is getting more confused.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “You don’t flirt with people? Ever? With girls, even? What about, like Jessica, and Madison?” It’s shitty to bring that up, Dean knows, but he has to know.

“Not really,” Sam says, his face crumpled a bit, like it always gets when Jess and Madison come up. “I just … I wasn't attracted to them, but people just excpect it so ... but then, yeah, I really liked them, so I did what they wanted to make them happy, and that made me happy. It wasn't the same for me, but that was okay.”

Dean shakes his head. “What do you mean you weren't attracted to them? You ... what, had sex with them as a _friend_? Hell, you were _in love_ with Jess.”

Sam gives a sad little smile, and says abruptly, “Are you attracted to me?” Dean doesn't know exactly what he does with his face, but it makes Sam’s smile a little more real. “Yeah, didn't think so, Thank God. But you still love me, and I still love you.”

Dean is too overwhelmed to protest the chick-flick moment, which is a first in pretty much all of space and time. “Are you saying you loved Jess like a sister?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head. “No, I loved Jess romantically, once I got to know her. God, did I love her. Like, I wanted to buy her flowers, and cuddle with her on the couch, and kiss her nose, and grow old with her.” Sam is knuckling away tears, but he keeps talking. “I thought she was beautiful. I thought she was perfect. It wasn't about attraction, I just _loved_ her. I dated her, and yeah, I slept with her, because I don’t _dis_ like sex, and it made her happy.”

“So …you don’t … like sex.”

Sam shrugs. “Sex is just … coffee. Some people like it, some people don’t, and I can drink it when it serves a purpose.”

“Huh.” Yeah, that’s pretty much all Dean can manage. He really likes sex. And coffee. Doesn't know how he could live without either. Apparently, Sam’s different. “Well,” Dean says in a weak attempt at his usual wisecracking, “I guess we always knew you were a--”

He cuts himself off even before Sam flinches, but it doesn't matter. They both know what he was going to say. The word hangs in the air between them.

 _Freak_.

He’s said so many times before, just like he says ‘bitch’ and Sam says ‘jerk,’ but somehow, Dean knows this is different.

He had been upset before, when he thought Sam was uncomfortable telling his own brother that he played for the home team. And now, when all Sam is saying is that he doesn't really play for either team, Dean just goes and throws that trust back in his face?

Fuck.

It’s too late, he knows it, so he just finishes “knew you were a big softie,” like that can fix what they both know just happened.

Except, maybe it can, because Sam jerks his head up and looks at Dean, swallows hard, and bumps Dean’s shoe with his own. “Yeah,” he says, his voice all cracked and girly, and Dean gets it then. He gets what Sam is saying.

Dean might not really understand Sam, but he can still choose to accept him.  

He nods, firmly. “Yep, that’s Sammy. One big fucking softie. Or, well, not fucking.” Dean’s not worried he put his foot in his ass again, because Sam’s mouth is twitching, just a little. “Not love fucking, but fucking for love. King of All Chick Flicks.” And then Sam is rolling his eyes and shoving him and smiling and laughing and they’re gonna be okay.

Thank fuck. They’re gonna be okay.

There’s one last thing Dean has to ask. “So, what you said before … about making Jess happy because you loved her…” Sam nods. “Does that mean you’d have sex with me, if I asked?”

The pillow in his face is so worth it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments make ace!Sam feel validated.


End file.
